The downing of the last king was a sight itself. Alisdair let out a chuckle over the man’s sheer dedication, acknowledging the fact that Manuel had proven himself to be a worthy drinking partner, despite losing in the game. The fact that he kept up with him this long was recognised, as well as admirable. Alisdair’s inner conscience wondered if perhaps the Chilean had enough already, but that was quickly silenced with his own chug of whisky. The night was still young.
It was no secret that the Scot was also drunk, quite literally smashed out his nut. He was still somewhat able to keep his head for longer, forming intelligible speech and rational thinking, his liver was a warrior - but one more bottle of drink, and he’d be gone. On the floor. Gone.
“I see – considering I’ve caught my brother makin’ out with a street light after a pub crawl… Well, I’d personally take that as a compliment, myself.”
Alisdair took another drink of his alcohol, before the sudden actions of the other demanded that he’d be dragged up for a dance, his hand trapped by the other’s insistent hold. It was fine with him, he was always a sucker for dancing, it was in his culture. However, there was no denying he felt lightheaded from the constant drinking, albeit he wasn’t going to let the other catch on that fact - he was more surprised that the other didn’t faint upon standing up too fast, considering he strode with a sway. To Alisdair, it told him Manuel was a man who loved to have fun, and he appreciated that.
“Aye, alright – I’m no’ one for that wee beaver’s music though, let’s put somethin’ on the jukebox…”
The Scot leaned his arm against the machine, scanning it’s options for something (preferably) upbeat and likable, literally considering anything at this point. Anything to switch off B/ieber. His content smile formed into that of a smirk, as Alisdair selected the finest song from Bon J/ovi. The hard guitar took him back in time, to when rock and roll was his lifeblood. It sent a calming rush of nostalgia throughout him, as he held onto Manuel’s hand, guiding him to the floor. His thrilled smile couldn’t be any more genuine. “– I hope you’re into stuff like this, because this is an anthem!”
The chilean was anything but picky when music was the subject --- he had dealt with different styles being popular through all his years alive, but rock would always hold a special place on his heart. Nevermind that his seventies were nothing alike the ones the scot lived, but latinamerican rock had saved him from going insane for more than a decade during the not so pleasant dictadorship days. He was a sudamerican rocker, after all.
Being drunk made everything more exciting for him. It was perhaps a matter of one more drink ( or one wrong spin in place ) and he would lose his feet and fall to the ground. Nevermind that Ali was standing next to him to catch in case anything happened --- or at least he hoped he would catch him if and when his face tried to meet the floor on a not so pretty kiss.
But it wasn’t his fear of smashing his skull against the cold tiles what made him hold onto his friend’s hand, or what made him move his free hand to place it on his shoulder, steadying himself while he tried to dance to the beat. Had Alisdair always had such a strong jaw or was he imagining things ? He blinked a couple of times, focusing on his question, but he couldn’t help but just stare at him for a few moments, mouth slightly opened.
What a good time to show off his gay.
“ – A’Ah, sí, sí. Of curse I like Bon Jo/vi. I might be from the third world but I’m not that lost. ”
His tongue clicks once, then twice, and he can’t stop mentally blaming the alcohol for giving him weird ideas. He doesn’t even realize his hand had let go of his, and now both of his arms are around Ali’s neck.
“ I’d like to show off my dance moves but I think I’m gonna passout real soon. ”
For some reason it feels okay to be swaying with him to a rock song, and Manuel --- a man always worried about what others might thing --- for once doesn’t give a crap that the people around them are staring.
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